There are times when nothing seems quite right. Your thoughts ramble without destination. Before long you realize the day has run out of time, so you curl upon your mattress only to find there is no sleep in your bed. And so, there you lay … remembering.
They knew all you could be before you knew who you were. And they were intent on molding you … separating you and your life from all the mistakes they had made in their own.
There were others you watched and attempted to mold yourself after. Whether or not you should was inconsequential. They poured technicolor into your black & white life. They made you feel alive.
You thank God for them … every one of them. You miss them … every one of them. You love them … every one of them. They knew it then. And they know it now … though they are ten zillion light years away.
The weight is lifted from your heart and rests upon the lids of your eyes. Sleep finds its way back into your bed … and you dream of waking up to a new day … a day when you can see in someone else what the ancestors saw in you.
Children, we best get our rest, for there is much work to do when morning comes.
3 thoughts on “When Morning Comes (Ode to the Ancestors)”
Thank you for this.
I am always encouraged and often challenged by your writings. Thank you.
Good! That is my intent. Always to encourage, think (preferably critically) and inspire. Thanks so much for taking the time to let me know how you feel. Take care and God bless